


Ready or Not

by orangeiguanas4



Series: Painting Your New Masterpiece [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/F, Friendship/Love, Fun, Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-25
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-09 11:58:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/773939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangeiguanas4/pseuds/orangeiguanas4
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quinn and Santana have been friends for years.  They take a trip during college and rediscover the reasons why maybe they've never quite been best friends all this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ready or Not

“This is going to be epic!” I shout, hopping into the passenger seat.

Quinn pulls her Ray Bans down over her eyes and runs a hand through her short blonde hair, leaving it messier than it started. I bounce excitedly in my seat as I hook my iPod up to the car’s sound system.

“Put your seatbelt on,” she demands as she turns the key in the ignition. A car honks from behind us and in the side-view mirror I can see Puck leaning over to hit the horn on Rachel’s steering wheel. I roll down my window and stick my head out of it.

“ROAD TRIP!” I yell and he honks again. Quinn yanks on my shirt and pulls me back into the car. She pulls away from the curb without another word and I crank up the stereo before turning in my seat to excitedly high five Mercedes on an awesome song choice for the beginning of our playlist.

Quinn taps on the steering wheel as we get onto the highway and start heading east. Mercedes and I sing at the top of our lungs and I know by the time we actually get to Maryland, I’m going to have lost my voice completely.

We stop for food and gas about halfway there and I take over driving when we pile back into the car. Quinn immediately pulls her Kindle out of her backpack and settles in the backseat amongst our bags. Mercedes takes over the co-captain position and she obsessively texts back and forth with Kurt while commentating the conversation to me.

Dusk is just starting to fall over the horizon as we pull up to the resort in Ocean City. We lug our bags up into the condo and Puck immediately starts moving the beer from a cooler into the fridge as the rest of us fight over beds. I claim the Master suite since I’m the one that planned the trip and Quinn immediately raises her eyebrow in silent conversation from across the room. I give her a grin and gesture to the bedroom. She picks up her bags and follows me.

“I’m glad we decided to do this,” Quinn states as she starts unpacking her bag and putting neatly folded clothes into the top drawer of the cheap pine dresser. “It’s been too long since we all have been in the same place at once.”

I agree with her, of course. We’re going to be juniors in college in a few weeks. The whole original glee club hasn’t been together at once since we graduated over two years ago. 

“Who’s to blame for that? You’re the one that took that fancy internship. Most of us actually go home for breaks once in a while.”

In reality, I can’t blame Quinn. Lima is still as fucking lame as it was when we were in school there. But Louisville is even worse. Quinn has glamorous New England at her fingertips and has the brains for fancy summer internships in New York City. Lima, for me, at least means that I’ll get to see some of the people that actually care about me. Louisville means spending time with bitchy cheerleaders that will never actually be my friends.

“Why don’t you just transfer to a school you actually like?” Quinn replies, moving over to the closet in order to hanging up her collection of sundresses. My bag is still lying haphazardly in the middle of the floor where I will probably trip on it as I drunkenly make my way to bed later.

“It’s a full ride. Two more years and I’ll be debt-free and I’ll have a degree that I can actually use.”

“You hate business and you hate Louisville,” Quinn reminds me.

“Doesn’t mean it’s not worth it,” I fire back. Quinn shrugs her shoulders and drops it. She finishes unpacking and I kick my bag off to the side before we rejoin our friends.

~!~!~!~

The boardwalk is crowded by the time we take the bus over a little after nightfall. The boys immediately run for the arcade like their dorky pre-teens again and the rest of us (the girls and Kurt) stroll through some of the tourist shops and candy stores.

We grab food on the go and eventually Rachel is able to coax the boys to leave their games in order to head for a bar. We all flash our fake IDs to the bouncer and he presses a black stamp to the back of our hands as we pay the cover charge. 

The bar is filled with college-aged kids dancing and holding sloshing plastic cups of cheap beer. I make a beeline for the bar, followed closely behind by Rachel and Quinn. It takes a couple of minutes to get the bartender’s attention despite how low-cut my dress is (she must be really straight, which, frankly, is a shame) and I order us a round. She passes me the plastic cups and I hand them to my friends before dropping a few bills on the sticky surface of the bar.

Rachel is already being talked up by a tall blonde guy when I turn around, but Quinn brushes off a guy that comes over to her; instead, she grabs my hand and drags me back towards where Mercedes and Tina are standing on the other side of the room. They are clutching some sort of pink drink and glancing around the crowded bar awkwardly.

“Why aren’t you dancing?” I shout over the pounding bass of the house music, my hips already starting to move.

They both just shrug at me, looking slightly out of place surrounded by drunken girls wearing hardly more than bikinis. Quinn catches my eye and we move in as a team, grabbing their hands and leading them onto the dance floor. Quinn has loosened up a lot since high school and she takes a sloppy swig from her own beer as she starts dancing with Tina, who looks overwhelmed by the whole situation. Mercedes starts to get into the groove and dances in front of me with a giddy smile and taking periodic sips from her fruity concoction.

Mike comes over with Brittany after a while and Mike starts grinding on Tina. Her cheeks are bright red, both from alcohol and the embarrassment of being this close to her ex-boyfriend. Brittany doesn’t hesitate to make quick rounds, first dancing with me, then Quinn, before landing on Mercedes. I can hear Mercedes’ cackling laughter as Brittany drops low right in front of her over the music and I laugh too before draining the last sip of my beer.

Quinn nods towards the bar and holds out her hand. We weave through the crowd and I slap away a few groping hands of wasted guys until we’re pressed against the bar. The hot bartender stops in front of us and I try to flirt with her, but she just disappears to pour us two more beers. Quinn throws down money to pay for this round, but I toss a couple of singles as a tip and wink at the girl before we walk away. 

Puck is dancing with some bottle-blonde slut not too far away and Rachel is now dancing respectfully with the guy she was talking to. I take a gulp of beer and push onto the corner of the dance floor with Quinn close behind me. Guys come over once in a while and I shake them off and glare at the ones that get too close to Quinn. She laughs every time one scurries away with his tail between his legs. Puck buys us shots at one point and dances with us for a few songs before heading after his next target.

It is hot in the bar and I’m sweating from being surrounded by people while dancing and getting progressively drunk. Quinn wipes perspiration from her forehead and points at the side wall of the bar where it opens out onto a fenced in area. We make our way through and I feel relief in the form of a salty ocean breeze as soon as we break away from the crowd.

I rest my forearms on the wrought iron fence that separates the bar from the alley that connects to the boardwalk. A few people smoke cigarettes around us and the music is still loud, but it’s a lot more relaxing out here. Quinn leans back against the fence and stares off towards the crowded bar.

“New Haven is awesome, but it’s nice to get away from the pretentious trust fund babies,” Quinn says conversationally. 

“Welcome to the state school party scene,” I joke, sipping from my beer and using my other hand to push my hair off from where it’s sticking to my neck.

Quinn glances at me like she’s not sure if she’s jealous of me or is glad that she’s not living my life. I know she’s branching out and loosening up at Yale, but for some reason I just can’t see Quinn doing keg stands with a bunch of frat guys no matter how hard I try to envision it.

“You’re better than Louisville, you know.” It’s a passing comment, but it hits me deep in my chest. I scoff and chug the rest of my beer to avoid the conversation.

“This vacation is about chilling with our friends and not thinking about our real lives, Q. Maybe you should get on board with that plan.” 

I push myself off the fence and make to head back inside. Quinn’s hand closes around my upper arm and pulls, forcing me to spin around. She has a look of determination gleaming from her face and I just stand there stupidly, waiting for her to explain.

But she doesn’t say anything. She yanks me against her and her lips are on mine before I have time to object. Quinn’s hands move down to grip my waist and I kiss her back, tasting the cheap beer on her tongue as it slides against mine.

“Holy fucking shit!” Puck’s voice rings out through the patio and Quinn pushes me away from her and wipes at her mouth.

I stride over to Puck and poke him in the chest.

“Keep your fucking mouth shut for once, Puckerman,” I say through gritted teeth, digging my nails into his forearm. He freezes and gives me a sober nod. “Good.”

I strut back into the bar and dance with our friends. Quinn comes back in with Puck a little while later, but she keeps her distance from where I’m dancing with Rachel. 

When the lights come up for last call, we gather our group of friends and head out. My feet are killing me in my heels and my head is fuzzy from all the alcohol. Rachel, ever the organized one, rounds us up and herds us to the bus stop to take us back to our condo.

As soon as we get back, everybody starts heading to their sleeping locations with mumbled goodnight’s which leaves me alone in a room with Quinn. She walks directly into the bathroom and I flop onto the bed, kicking my heels off in the process. I’m still in my skintight dress, but I’m too tired and confused to really worry about it.

I’m starting to slip into a state of unconsciousness when I feel Quinn shove me.

“Get your ass up and change.”

“Fuck you, Q,” I mumble and try to roll over. She shoves me again.

“I mean it, Santana.” She shakes my shoulders and bounces on her knees on the mattress.

With a groan, I roll off of the bed and rub at my tired eyes, trying to focus enough to find my toothbrush and a change of clothes. Quinn huffs when I give up and strip off my dress and try to climb back into bed. She gets up and finds them for me and nudges me in the direction of the bathroom.

I wash up and pull on the Louisville cheerleading t-shirt and the red sleep shorts that Quinn unpacked for me before stumbling back into the bedroom. Quinn is tucked under the covers on the far side of the bed and I flip the light switch before tripping my way back to the bed.

“Q?” I say as I get comfortable under the blankets beside her.

“Go to bed, San,” she grumbles.

“Are we gonna ignore what happened at the bar?”

“I’m exhausted and way too drunk for this. Just go to sleep.”

Quinn turns away from me and I have no choice but to do what she says.

~!~!~!~

I’m alone in the bed when I wake up with a pounding headache and insane dry mouth the next morning. Quinn’s side of the bed is cold, so she’s been up for a while. I let myself lie here, not caring about facing the world at all. Voices drift in from the living area and I squint at the clock on the nightstand. It’s just after eleven already.

It takes a long shower and three Advil before I’m willing to be around other people. Rachel and Kurt are in the kitchen making pancakes, Puck is on the balcony smoking a cigarette while Finn lounges on a chair beside him. Tina, Mercedes, and Mike are on the couch watching Jersey Shore reruns while they eat bowls of cereal. Quinn is nowhere to be seen.

I grab a pancake off of the plate and pour some syrup on it before rolling it up and taking a bite. Kurt gives me a disgusted look before turning back towards the stove.

“Where’s Quinn?” I ask casually through a mouthful of pancake.

“She went for a run on the beach,” Rachel answers plainly. Apparently college has scaled back her need to answer every single question in full paragraphs.

I’m tying my bikini top when Quinn reappears in our room an hour later. My heart rate picks up noticeably when I glance over at the sweat-soaked girl. Since Quinn moved to Lima at the end of middle school, she stole the spot for the prettiest girl around. Even I could acknowledge that she was beautiful, but with her t-shirt sticking to her sweaty skin and her hair pulled up in a messy bun and an expanse of exposed leg in tiny track shorts, all I see is a girl that is fucking hot. I have an urge to throw her down on our bed and have my way with her. 

Damn Quinn and her drunken need for justification that she’s good enough has completely ripped away my ability to view her as nothing more than my bitchy best friend, I think as she rifles through a drawer for her bathing suit. I watch out of the corner of my eye as she heads into the bathroom and turns on the shower.

Most of us leave for the beach before Quinn is out of the shower, but the image of her chest heaving under her shirt this morning is burned into my mind. I flop down on our beach blanket and shove my headphones into my ears to avoid encouraging the likes of Berry to strike up a conversation with me.

I end up falling asleep on my towel and wake up to the sight of Quinn sprawled out in a relatively modest bikini a few feet away from me. She is sprawled out on her stomach and holds her head up on her hand as she reads on her Kindle that is resting on her towel. My dark sunglasses are still down over my eyes and I let myself observe her discreetly, taking in the pinkish hue of slightly sunburned skin and the freckles that spread across her shoulders. Her hair has dried naturally and it’s incredibly wavy and windblown, but it makes her look even more relaxed.

“Is the beauty queen finally awake?” Puck chides, sitting down in the sand between Quinn and I, breaking my view of her.

“Fuck off, Puckerman,” I growl and roll back over, facing away from Quinn. A few minutes later he gets bored and hops up to go back in the water with the guys.

“What are you reading, nerd?”

Quinn turns her head and adjusts the Ray Bans over her eyes, pushing them up the bridge of her nose.

“Like you actually care,” Quinn scoffs.

“Just making some friendly conversation with my best friend who shoved her tongue down my throat in a crowded bar last night,” I reply. She yanks off her sunglasses to glare at me.

“Not here, Santana,” she says through gritted teeth.

“Does that mean you’re willing to discuss it at a later time?”

Quinn rolls her eyes and goes back to reading her book.

~!~!~!~

We pregame at the condo after dinner. Mike breaks out a deck of cards and we sit on the floor of the living room playing Kings and drinking beer out of cans. My buzz is strong by the time we head for the bars.

Within the first hour, Finn nearly gets into a fist fight and gets tossed out of the bar which causes our group to split up. Puck and Artie leave to take care of him, but the rest of us stay at the bar. I let myself keep drinking, but I’m spending more time keeping an eye on Quinn and Rachel’s intake. Rachel is giddy and fun and keeps clinging to Tina and jumping excitedly every time a song she likes starts playing. Quinn looks broody and is quickly approaching bitchy Quinn.

“You might want to slow down before you turn into an actual ice queen,” I say, pushing the empty shot glass away from her on the bar surface. “How about you drink a glass of water before you start hitting the vodka again?”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Quinn practically growls as she waves down the bartender. She orders a shot and a rum and coke, slapping cash down on the bar. The guy bartender practically undresses her with his eyes before pouring her drinks.

She takes the shot as soon as it’s placed in front of her and washes it down with a big sip from her mixed drink. She smirks at me and walks away without another word. Bitchy Quinn should not make me get so wet, but as I watch her ass sway as she walks I can’t help the rush of hormones that surge through me. I order my own drink, glaring at the bartender as he stares at my chest instead of my eyes. I don’t bother tipping him when he returns with my Jack and coke.

I watch Quinn closely from the opposite side of the room. She dances with our friends and lets random guys cut in to grind against her from time to time. There are tons of girls that are drunk and are wearing tiny dresses that I could be getting into, but all of my fucking attention is fixated on her stupid drunk ass instead of my own needs.

Rachel ends up puking before closing time and Mercedes rounds us up to leave together. Quinn is stumbling, but she’s smiling now at least. I’ve turned into the dark cloud instead. I text with Puck for the entire ride home and by the time we walk into the condo, he’s waiting on the balcony for me with a freshly rolled joint.

He lights it as he sucks in, making the end glow. I flop into the empty seat as he lets out a steady stream of smoke. The smell of weed fills my nose and I reach over to take the joint from him.

“You ladies have a fun night while we dealt with the asshole?” Puck asks as I inhale.

“Eh,” I grumble. I didn’t come out here to gossip about my night. I came out here to get high and forget about the gorgeous girl that is in my bed that I apparently can’t actually sleep with.

Puck doesn’t push me for details and we pass the joint between us. He sips a beer in between hits and we both just look over the ocean. Eventually the joint burns down and Puck puts it out and finishes the last swallow of his beer. He pats my arm once and walks back into the condo without saying anything.

I sit with the silence for a few minutes before venturing back into the condo. It’s dark and quiet inside and I grab a bottle of water from the fridge before tiptoeing into the bedroom.

Quinn is sitting up in bed looking at her cell phone with the bedside lamp on.

“Oh,” I say dumbly, leaning down to pull off my wedges. My sleep clothes are lying on the floor from this morning and I strip out of my dress and pull them on quickly before padding barefoot into the bedroom.

Quinn is still sitting there when I return from the bathroom. I climb into the bed on her left side and rearrange my pillows.

“I thought you wanted to talk,” she says, I glance over to see her dropping her phone onto the nightstand.

“Fuck,” I mumble under my breath.

“What was that?” I don’t respond. “Santana?” 

“You’re wasted, Q. It doesn’t matter,” I mumble.

“And you are high. What’s your point?”

I can’t really figure out what the point really is. All I know right now is that hazel eyes are boring into my mine and I’ve never noticed how soulful they are. God, I just want to kiss her.

Kissing Quinn seems like a much better idea than trying to have a conversation when neither of us is sober. I launch forward into her and she gasps loudly when our bodies make contact. I reach for her chin and angle her mouth towards mine, kissing her deeply. She melts into it and kisses me back.

We kiss and it’s a little sloppy and uncoordinated, yet somehow it’s completely igniting every fiber of my being. Quinn runs her tongue along mine and I can taste the lasting remnants of alcohol underneath the mint of her toothpaste. She bites down on my lip and I growl, letting her mouth swallow it.

“I want you,” I practically moan against her.

Quinn pulls back and wipes her mouth with her hand, letting her fingers linger on her kiss-swollen lips.

“Not like this,” she says, her fingers still pressed against her bottom lip.

“Okay,” I say. It’s about the most I can manage right now.

Quinn reaches over and turns off the light before settling in on her side of the bed.

~!~!~!~

Quinn is missing from our shared bed again when I wake up. It’s early and the condo is quiet, but the smell of fresh coffee hits my nostrils as I turn into the kitchen area. I pour myself a mug and see a messy mop of blonde hair in a chair on the balcony.

She’s wearing her workout clothes and she doesn’t even turn her head when I slide open the screen door and step out onto the deck. It’s early and the air is still cool before the heavy August heat sets in. She’s staring off into space and I don’t say anything as I settle into the other chair.

I sip at my coffee and gaze out over the quiet landscape in order to keep from staring at Quinn. In my peripheral, I watch her hand come up and comb through her messy, short hair. She ends up just making it messier.

“I shouldn’t have come at you like that last night,” I say genuinely, breaking the tense that is sitting in the space between us. It’s as close to an apology as I can muster.

Quinn visibly tenses and her knuckles go white around the handle of her coffee mug. 

“You know, I always told myself to not fall for your charm.”

My head snaps around to look at Quinn directly. She sighs.

“You’re really such an asshole most of the time.”

“If you just planned on insulting me after you’re the one that macked on me at the bar the other night, then fuck this, Quinn,” I say, my temper growing. I start to get up to head back inside.

“Will you just let me finish?” She growls. “Damn, you’re so frustrating sometimes.”

I perch on the edge of the seat, ready to leave on a moment’s notice. Quinn sighs again, her shoulders rolling back into her HBIC posture.

“I was jealous every time you picked Brittany over me. It’s why I was horrible to you.” She pauses and picks at her cuticle. “She got the soft side of you and I was left with the manipulative bitch.”

“Q…” I try to cut in. I mean, she’s right. Brittany got all of my attention for the better part of the past six years of my life.

“Please just let me say what I need to say, Santana.” I slide back into my seat a little bit, gesturing for her to continue. “I didn’t know why I was so jealous of you all the time. But as much as I tried to hate you, all I’ve ever wanted is to show you that I could have been everything that Brittany was. I could have been more.”

Quinn laughs and rests back against the chair. I watch as she takes a sip from her coffee before putting it back on the little table.

“So maybe I was just trying to prove to myself that I could be that person at the bar the other night. Maybe I just needed to know that I was good enough for once.” 

I reach over to brush my fingers down her forearm. She shivers under my touch.

“I shouldn’t be using you to deal with my own fucked up problems,” she whispers barely loud enough for me to hear.

I pull her to her feet. She looks at me curiously and I cradle her chin in my palm, letting my fingers caress the line of her jaw. We lock eyes and I see unshed tears pooling in hers. She takes a deep breath and melts into my touch by a fraction.

I don’t know how to tell her with words what she needs to hear right now. I’ve always been a woman of actions without care for consequences. Words and emotions are never going to be my specialty. 

So I kiss her, my hand feeling her skin heat beneath my touch on her face. It’s soft and slow, our lips delicately pressed together. I try to let her feel everything that is burning in my chest. The moment only lasts mere seconds before I pull away, using my free hand to push a blonde lock out of her face and tucking it behind her ear.

“What do I need to do to prove to you that you’re more than good enough?” I ask gently. The tears spill over in her eyes and start running down her cheeks. “I’ll prove it every day if you need me to.”

I don’t know what this is or where it’s leading. I haven’t dated anybody since Brittany. Quinn will be back in New Haven in a week and I’ll be stuck in Louisville. She’ll be happy and flourishing while I’m miserable and counting down the days until I can live my life. This is just one moment of bliss in a lifetime of hardship. I can’t promise her anything, but my heart aches to give her my everything. Quinn is my best friend despite all the crap we’ve put each other through over the years.

Quinn responds by surging forward and capturing my lips, her hands locking around my waist and pulling me into her. I kiss her back, feeling the salty wetness of her tears as our cheeks graze.

“Just be here with me right now.” She kisses me again. “Nothing else matters.”


End file.
